I can't believe I was friggin whining about not going to the beach this summer. I might as well start crying that the weather is too beautiful here. And stuff. Ugh. BUT...All was made notsuckable when I scurried past the Cineramadome last night (thank you, moderately-priced Hollywood apartment) with my shitargic dog & her makeshift bandanna collar (why must you eat EVERYTHING?????). We shared A MOMENT:

I saw Veronica Mars in the flesh (she's remarkably Micro-machine-sized).

And, for some unbuddha-ly reason, Patrick Swayze's lyrics called to me.

She's like the wind through my tree She rides the night next to me She leads me through moonlight Only to burn me with the sun She's taken my heart But she doesn't know what she's done

Feel her breath on my face Her body close to me Can't look in her eyes She's out of my league Just a fool to believe I have anything she needs She's like the wind

I swear that she looked at me. Or in my direction. And winked. Or maybe her eye twitched. My dog could have run off with her bandanna collar and I wouldn't have known it or cared. Cause for that one nanosecond, I do believe Kristen Bell eye-googled me. AND LIKED IT. And then...she was gone. And I was off to Petco to buy a double nylon collar that will withstand the strength of a really really fat but strong woman. I'm talking deuce, deuce and a half maybe. Anyways, deep in my Nancy Wilson, we shared a moment. And because of that, I believe KBell has supplanted JAlba at the top of my "List of Famous Girls I'd Manlove If The Girlfriend Allowed Me That One Transgression." Oh yes. Number one like a rocket.

p.s. A sidenote: at the LaBrea Petco, two ladies brought in a baby oppossum they had found on the side of the road, apparently on their way to a Hideously Dressed Latino Lady Competition. Why they thought Petco was Grand Oppossum Central Station, I have no idea. But they had it stashed inside an aquarium (again, who rides around with empty aquariums in their car?) and they tried to show it to me. More like shoved it at me while I held my arms in the air. It was a scary-looking devil rat. If I could have drove the Taurus in Petco, I would have. Scary, I tell you.

I live 20 minutes from the beach and I haven't been to it ONE TIME this ENTIRE summer. I've just been too busy. Busy with everything. Too busy for one of my favorite places in Southern Cali: Hermosa B & Manhattan B: I miss you. If Jessica Simpson (pictured above) were all like, "Come on! Let's go to the beach so we can wear sexy cowboy hats and flirt with the paparazzi," I'd have to sigh, cry a bit and walk away. That's the raw deal with television. We're making the stuff you'll be watching this fall and afterwards. So in my quick 5 min break, here's what's been going on:

-My dog keeps having diarrhea. Shit everywhere. All the time. I'm surprised she hasn't blown an O-ring yet. This is another reason beach time has been seriously depleted.

-I'm buying a new (but used) car, which means I will be retiring the Taurus. This feels like it will be one of those long, drunken posts about how I've been through so much with an inanimate object things. I'm thinking about donating it to a local LA charity. Cancer kids or PETA animal activists against putting makeup on monkeys..something like that. Most likely the monkeys because they're always funny. But only if the makeup is safe. Okay. I just imagined a monkey putting on his makeup himself while driving my beatup Ford Taurus down the 405. They win.

-Seen a few movies lately. X-Men 3...okay. The Breakup...so so disappointing. Superman Returns...made me sleepy. The Devil Wears Prada...surprised at how much I liked it. Pirates 2...off the chain. Monster House...cooltastic (really, you can take your little sis and still enjoy yourself).

-Been catching up on some tv pilots coming out in the fall. Watch out for Skeet Ulrich in Jericho. Man's going to re-blow up. You heard it here. Heroes, which I believe is at NBC, definitely has promise to be a favorite. Superheroes X Lost = Top 10 Tivo Seasonpassage. Hayden Pana-something or other plays Indestructible Cheerleader. I would say that's she's superbangeable but I think she's 16 so I'll just say that I admire her acting abilitie-s. Both of them.

-Dude. I turned 26. Sang some freakin Peter Cetera "Glory of Love" at my karaoke birthday party. Orchid Bar near the Wiltern off Wilshire, LA-peeps. A must recommend.

Like I said, no time no time. Maybe I'll be able to discuss further favorite things (like how I totally want to have sex with Big Brother All Stars) in the near future. Until then, back to working hard for unappropriate pay.

I know. I know. I wish I could say I was abducted by the ship from "Flight Of The Navigator" and that I went on some kickass adventures that involved flying over the Pacific Ocean and singing Beach Boys songs superbly off key...but I didn't. I overslept. Alarm clock was on PM instead of AM. My bad.

BUT...there is movement and a (perhaps?) conclusion in THE GREATEST INTERNET LOVE STORY OF ALL TIME: The Classmates.com couple. Or as I like to call them, Axl and Piper.

Maya Angelou may have not been 100% on why exactly the birds, in fact, sing. Or she may have only thought she saw them sing, but it was a cruel joke by one of her college friends ("That Maya, man. She's always birdwatching. Waiting. Let's trip her out with some Disney animatronic shit!!"). Or she may have really seen them sing, but they weren't actually caged, at least not in the literal sense. But, again, you never know. Call me loco, but I'd just like to see a similar convo on "Larry King Live."

Larry: "So, you never really did see them...sing?"

Maya: "Larry, Larry! The literal truth of the book is still there. The only part that is in question is the title."

Larry: "But isn't that the theme of the book? The main point, if I may?"

Maya: "Larry, Larry. Come on. It's me. Maya."

Larry: "You've never even seen a bird, have you?"

Maya: "Again. No comment."

Larry: "Spell bird."

Maya: "No comment."

Larry: "I'm going to pretend I'm a bird and I'm going to sing. Then, for the viewers around the world watching, tell me why."

At least I remembered to watch Road House this afternoon before I came into work. If I ever figure out how to feng shui my apartment, that glorious piece of film is going to be playing on a loop on a secondary TV somewhere, probably near the kitchen. Because it has an eerie calming effect on me. Actually, to mix it up, I might also add Mad Max:Beyond Thunderdome (because, truly, everything is better Beyond Thunderdome).

If you're a real man and haven't seen these movies, something is terribly wrong. If you're a chick and you've seen them, something is right. Oh so right that I might love you. Totally.

Well...Survivor Austin grew up right around the corner from my house as a kid. One day I went to his house to play soccer and he kicked the ball really hard and it hit me in the nose, causing a monstrous nosebleed. The rest of my memory is hazy but I do remember there was some unnecessary laughing, some fighting and maybe an attempt to blow my bloody nose all over him and his dog in anger. But...that was at least 18 years ago. I'm over it. Although, it would be pretty cool if he did get in the final two at the end. Then, I could get a ticket to the taping and stand up and call him out on it. "DUDE, that guy kicked a soccer ball deliberately at my face, gave me a nosebleed and laughed at me!! So I blew my nose on him and his dog! And I think he might have cried a little! Should a guy LIKE THAT be the next winner of Survivor??"